


(i hope you know that) you're my home

by bilgegungoren00



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Father-Son Relationship, Fear of loss, Gen, Heavy Angst, Poisoning, and i couldn't not write it, i had this idea in my mind for the longest time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-13 23:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15376233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilgegungoren00/pseuds/bilgegungoren00
Summary: It was supposed to be an easy mission. A simple break-in that Connor and Hank only needed to handle because they were the closest to the crime scene. (It wasn’t even in their job description—they dealt with crimes after they happened, not during.) At least that was what Connor’s calculations told him. All the scenarios he ran in his head, and he couldn’t have predicted this.Hank gets poisoned during a mission, and Connor has to face the possibility of losing him.Post pacifist/best ending.Warning: mature language (looking at you, Hank)





	1. poison

**Author's Note:**

> hey, y'all!
> 
> this is my first time writing something for D:BH and oh my god, i'll be honest, i'm really excited about it. i just got a ps4 this year, and i've been looking at cool games to try out, and honestly? so far, this game had been my favorite. just the sheer amount of possibilities, different endings, relationships, characters... i'm blown away by it. aaaand of course, my favorite thing to come out of this was our beloved android Connor and his lieutenant dad, so of course, as a long time fanfic writer i had to write something about them. i apologize if it seems a bit OOC; as i've said, it's my first time writing for these characters. 
> 
> anyway, hope you like this, and please let me know what you think about it :) also, if you have any fic requests for D:BH, you can leave them in the comments as well, i'd love to write more for this fandom :)

* * *

It was supposed to be an easy mission. A simple break-in that Connor and Hank only needed to handle because they were the closest to the crime scene. (It wasn’t even in their job description—they dealt with crimes after they happened, not _during.)_ At least that was what Connor’s calculations told him. All the scenarios he ran in his head, and he couldn’t have predicted _this._

Hank, unconscious, on a stretcher, being pushed behind doors he couldn’t cross. Waiting in the hospital for _hours—_ technically, it had only been thirty-seven minutes and fifty-five seconds, according to Connor’s built-in clock, yet for the deviant in him, it certainly felt longer—without knowing whether the man was even alive. Wondering if this was it—if he would lose Hank now, much too earlier than he’d planned for.

Sure, Connor always knew that he’d outlive Hank. He was built to function for about a hundred and fifty years without outside assistance, and Hank, as a man in his fifties who was leading a not-so-healthy lifestyle, would live at best to his nineties—maybe a bit longer with the diet Connor was enforcing on him, to the lieutenant’s dismay. The android knew he would lose Hank eventually…but not this early. Not when Hank hadn’t even hit sixty.

He should’ve seen the danger coming. Damn it, he was _built_ for it. He could scan his environment in lightning speed, processing information a human would require hours, maybe _days_ to even understand. His sensors were best of his kind—he could hear and see ten times better than any human, and at least twice better than any android. He could reconstruct scenes from even the scarcest evidence, and he could preconstruct his plan of attack just as easily. He _should’ve_ seen it coming.

And yet he didn’t. He’d been too late. He’d been joking with Hank—“As if murders and deviants weren’t enough, now Fowler’s having us look at fucking break-ins?” Hank was saying, “Seems like we ain’t getting sleep for some time.”—laughing at the lieutenant, loosening his grasp around his gun for a brief second. For _one second._ He’d opened his mouth to say something…and only then he’d spotted the movement to his left. He’d been too late. In a flurry of seconds, he was pushed to the wall, away from Hank, his gun falling on the floor, and the woman had attacked Hank as Connor tried to calm his stress levels and focus his audio and visual processors. “—fuck’s sake!” was the first thing he heard, a yell coming from Hank as the man fell on the floor.

The woman was long gone.

He’d rushed to Hank’s side, seeing the man holding his neck, even though he didn’t seem to be visibly injured. “Hank? Are you okay?” he’d asked, analyzing the man again. Was there an injury that he’d missed?

Hank lifted his hand from his neck, a frown on his face. “That fucker just stabbed me with a fucking needle,” he said, annoyance audible in his voice. He’d looked up…

And then his eyes had rolled back, his body collapsing onto the floor—or more precisely, Connor’s arms as he’d rushed to catch his partner.

The android wouldn’t be worried this much if it was just that. Hank must’ve been drugged—that might’ve been what the needle was for—but that wasn’t something they couldn’t deal with. The man was still breathing, in the end. His fear only increased when he actually sampled the drug from the stray drops that had fallen on Hank’s neck. It was not a drug.

It was poison. Worse, a poison that wasn’t in Connor’s database, and thus something he couldn’t possibly find an antidote for. Whoever had broken into the building had poisoned Hank on his way out.

Now here he was, in the hospital, waiting to hear the undoubtedly bad news. (If he, basically a supercomputer, couldn’t find a cure for the poison, how could the doctors?) To hear that Hank couldn’t survive. How much time would the man have? Hours? Days? Would it be enough to _create_ an antidote?

Connor was both desperate and terrified to know.

Yet he still jumped to his feet—a human expression, he’d learned in the last couple of years, describing when one stood up too quickly out of excitement—when he saw Hank’s doctor leave the ominous doors. He checked the time. Forty-one minutes since Hank had been poisoned.

He was almost too afraid to ask the question. “Is the lieutenant okay?”

The doctor’s expression told it all. It wasn’t good news. “He’s alive,” she explained, her voice calm and soothing. “But we can’t identify what he was poisoned with, and without that, we can’t treat him just in case something goes wrong.” _Of course._ They wouldn’t know what might interact with the poison and how, and it was too much of a risk to take.

While Connor didn’t need to breathe, he felt like air got hitched in his throat. His audio processor seemed to be malfunctioning when he spoke again—androids didn’t really have shaky voices. ( _Deviants do,_ Connor thought, something Hank reminded him all too often when Connor implied something along the lines of how he was just a machine. “You’re not just a damn machine, Connor. Sure your voice is gonna shake,” he would probably say now, if…if he was here.) “How much time does he have?”

The doctor looked down at her notes. “At the rate his body is deteriorating, two days. Three at most.” She stopped for a second. “I’m sorry.”

That apology didn’t even begin to cover what Connor was _feeling_ at that moment. There had always been days in the last couple of years that he doubted whether he was really a deviant or not, yet in moments like this, when utter fear was coursing through his body, he had no doubt. The clenching of his gut, the shakiness of his breath, the excruciating pain in his heart could never be explained by just a system malfunction.

He’d failed Hank. He’d failed the only family he had on this world, and now he could do nothing but watch him die. Nothing…

The doctor took him out of his thoughts. “If his condition doesn’t worsen, we’ll wake him up tomorrow morning. You can say your goodbyes then.” Connor’s eyes snapped at the woman. _I’m not saying goodbye,_ he wanted to say—he wasn’t ready for it, not this soon, not right now—yet the words died on his tongue—another human expression he’d been getting more and more familiar with. He only nodded at the woman, and then watched her disappear behind the doors again.

He turned to leave the place without a second thought. Two or three days. He had no time to lose.

* * *

Connor was a state-of-the-art prototype. There was a reason he was the android sent to solve the deviant case—he could put tidbits of evidence into a whole picture faster than any human. And with deviants, Cyberlife had needed that efficiency.

Now that androids were recognized as people and treated as such—it had been a rocky road, especially for Markus, but after several years the man had achieved what he set out to do—there was no need to hunt the deviants, but Connor made use of his skillset as a detective in DPD, working as Hank’s partner. He’d helped to solve many cases with his capabilities.

Yet right now, when he needed to succeed the most…he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t find the woman that attacked and poisoned Hank. He’d gone back to the crime scene, he’d checked the security cameras, he even thought about half a thousand scenarios about why she poisoned Hank, but there was nothing. It had almost been a day— twenty-two hours, seventeen minutes and fifty-eight seconds, to be exact—but every angle Connor thought about came up empty.

At this point, he was way past the point of desperation, approaching the utter terror territory. He was trying his best—everyone in the DPD was trying their best—yet it wasn’t enough. And the price of failure was too high to pay.

He buried his face in his hands, trying hard to keep his tears at bay. Technically, androids shouldn’t even be able to cry—their tear ducts were only there to dampen their eyes so that they looked more human-like. While Connor knew that deviants could cry, he’d never done that ever since he became a deviant. He never felt the need to.

Except now. Now, he felt like his audio processor was overworking— _my throat is burning,_ a human would probably say—to keep his sobs at bay. He needed to focus on the case, he couldn’t think about his pain. Hank only had a day. If he didn’t find the antidote by then…

He was distracted from his thoughts with Captain Fowler’s voice. “Hey, Connor?” The android lifted his head to look at the man, hiding his shaky hands under the table. The captain had a soft look on his face as he eyed the android. “How’re you holding up?”

_Terrible._ “I’m fine. I’m trying to find our attacker.” He turned his attention to the screen in front of him. Better than doing nothing.

“Did Hank’s information help?” Connor’s hands stilled on the keyboard with the lieutenant’s name.

Oh, yeah, by the way, the doctors had woken Hank up ten hours, forty-six minutes, twenty seconds ago. A couple of police officers—most of them Hank’s friends—had visited the lieutenant, in the meantime asking what he remembered of the attacker. He’d only said that she was a middle-aged woman, _maybe_ had brown and straight hair, and right before she stabbed Hank with that poisonous needle she’d said, “He needs to feel my pain.” Translation: nothing. It didn’t even narrow down the suspect list, which was…pretty much nonexistent at this point.

Connor hadn’t gone to see Hank. He couldn’t give up the investigation—it was too time-sensitive. The time he lost seeing Hank could be the difference between life and death for the lieutenant. He couldn’t take the risk.

(Yet he knew it wasn’t just that. He was also terrified to see Hank, knowing that he might very well lose the man. He wasn’t ready to face that possibility.)

“No,” Connor had to admit. “We don’t have much to go on for now. But we’ll figure it out, Captain. We’ll find her—“

“Connor,” Fowler cut his words, putting a hand on the android’s shoulder. Connor had no choice but to turn to the man. “Hank wants to see you.”

Connor definitely felt a knot in his throat then, even though he knew that was impossible. “I can’t drop the investigation just yet—“

“He insisted.” Fowler stopped for a second to close his eyes and sigh. “He knows what’s coming. He wants to see you just in case—“

“That’s _not_ going to happen.” Fowler’s face softened with Connor’s words. He must’ve heard the desperation, the _terror_ behind them. He leaned on Connor’s desk, choosing his next words carefully.

“Look, Connor, I know you’re scared. We all are. Nobody here wants to see Hank die, and we’re all working our asses off to find the antidote for him. But Hank doesn’t need you running after the antidote now. He needs you by his side. And frankly, you need him, too. If things go wrong—“

“They won’t—“

“ _If_ they go wrong, I don’t want you to regret having spent Hank’s last hours away from him.”

Connor now could definitely feel the baseball-sized knot in his throat, and he also felt like he could vomit at any moment, even though that was not possible for an android. He realized he’d been clasping the arms of the chair too tightly only when he heard a creak.

He couldn’t relax his hands.

The words felt like knives cutting through his throat as he tried to speak. “I’m not…ready to face it, Captain,” he whispered. He couldn’t even say the word. His audio processor was definitely overheating.

Fowler smiled sadly, squeezing Connor’s shoulder. “I’m afraid you don’t have much time left for that.” Connor looked at the time. Close to twenty-three hours had passed. Hank had one, at most two days to leave.

The first of the tears escaped Connor’s eyes.

* * *

Connor had been standing in front of the door for _way too long_ now, his hand resting on the handle as he tried to gather enough courage to enter. In his other hand, there was a bottle of whiskey he’d grabbed on the way from Hank’s house. (If this was to be the lieutenant’s…last day, he wanted to make it as comfortable as possible.) On his way here, he tried to tell himself that it’d be okay, this was just a precaution, Hank would surely be saved and these…these terrifying thoughts would go away instantly.

_Terrifying._ Connor didn’t remember being this terrified before, not even for his own life. But, well, he was an android—he was replaceable. Even if he was broken badly, as long as they replaced the damaged parts before he shut down he’d come back to life, as healthily as before. Hank was human. He was fragile, he was weaker, but most importantly he wasn’t replaceable. Once Hank was gone…it would be the end.

It was a hard thought to swallow. (But something he might have to come to terms with sooner rather than later.)

He took an instinctive deep breath as he finally pushed the handle, opening the door. They’d taken Hank to a more comfortable hospital room after the initial surgery. It was slightly bigger with a television mounted onto the wall, windows overlooking Detroit, and a bunch of more pillows surrounding Hank. The lieutenant was looking out the window when Connor arrived, but his eyes quickly turned to the android. His eyes lit up as a smile graced his lips.

“Well, fuck, son. I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna come.”

Connor tried to swallow the imaginary knot in his throat as he forced a smile on his face. (He wondered briefly whether it looked as fake as it did before he was a machine and couldn’t feel human emotions.) “I’m sorry, Hank, I was working on—“ The lieutenant dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, Jeffrey told me. I get it.” Hank didn’t seem angry about it. In fact, his expression was soft and understanding. “Now why don’t you push that chair close so we’re not talking across the room?”

Connor dutifully brought the chair, sitting down with his hands resting on his lap. He remembered the whiskey then. “Um, I brought you this,” he lifted the bottle. “I thought you might want it, you know…” A chuckle left Hank’s lips. He reached for the bottle.

“Well I’ll be damned. If you, Mr. you-shouldn’t-be-drinking, brings me alcohol, you know things are bad.”

Connor’s stomach dropped. He didn’t want to think about that. “Hank, you’re not going to die—“ he tried to say, but Hank was faster. He put the whiskey bottle aside and turned to Connor.

“Connor, I think it’s time we accept that there’s no going back from this.” Tears threatened Connor’s eyes all over again. He couldn’t push them back this time.

“Hank, don’t say that.” His voice was shaking again. “We’re going to save you. I’m going to figure out a way—“

“I want you to stay here with me, son.” Connor stopped. _What?_

“Hank, I—“

“I’m sure the whole fucking department is working to save me now. Your absence won’t hurt the investigation. And if this is my last day on earth, I sure as hell want it to be by your side.” Connor shook his head. He couldn’t accept that. He couldn’t just…just _give up_. This was Hank’s life they were talking about, and Hank was too important.

“I can’t—You—You can’t just expect me to _give up_ ,” he argued. He was stumbling over his words, his processor unable to put coherent sentences together. Hank smiled, amused, yet didn’t comment on it.

“This isn’t giving up, Connor. This is granting me my dying wish or—or whatever.”

“You’re not dying. I won’t let you—“

“Connor, it’s too late—“

“No, it’s not. It’s not. I’m not losing you, Dad!” The words left Connor’s mouth in a rush before he could think about them, before he could stop himself. He’d been clasping Hank’s hand tightly—he didn’t even realize that he’d brought his hand up—he’d been desperate, he was on the verge of crying, and he said the first thing that came to his mind.

Silence engulfed the room, Hank gaping at Connor, and only then the android realized what he said. His insides went cold. (Figuratively, as a quick system check told Connor that his body temperature hadn’t changed.) He’d called Hank _dad._

He hadn’t meant to.

Sure, he was thinking about it. It had been three and a half years since the android revolution, and Hank and Connor had practically been inseparable. At first, it was out of necessity, as androids couldn’t own a place for themselves for about a year. Thus, Hank had dutifully invited Connor to live with him until things settled down.

Even after androids gained their right, though, Connor didn’t move out. He…didn’t want to. Hank was the only friend he had, and he’d gotten used to having a friend in his house. He didn’t want to live alone. (He also wanted to make sure Hank adopted a healthier lifestyle, and he couldn’t very well check that if he lived somewhere else.) He also loved Sumo, and it was infinitely easier to work with Hank for the DPD—Fowler had hired him as soon as he legally could—when they were living together.

However, it was more than that. There was one more reason Connor didn’t move out, and it was that he saw Hank as his _family._ A father figure, someone who helped him adapt to his humanity, taught him everything he wanted to know, and helped him through tough times when his feelings got too overwhelming. He’d never told Hank that—for obvious reasons. Connor didn’t want Hank to think that he was trying to replace Cole. He knew how much Hank loved his son and how much his death still hurt him.

Of course, all of those were logical thoughts that he’d be able to process in a calm situation. But he wasn’t calm. He was desperate, he was scared, his stress levels were approaching eighty percent—he couldn’t think. The word just slipped out of his mouth.

He ducked his chin, staring at his hands intensely. He couldn’t look at Hank’s face. He wouldn’t even be surprised if the man just kicked him out of the room—

“You’d never called me dad before,” Hank said quietly. Connor just pressed his lips together, feeling one tear finally escape his eyes. A second later he felt the lieutenant’s hand pressing press his cheek, wiping the tear away. “It’s okay, Connor. We might not share blood, but… Fuck, you’re my son just as much as…as Cole used to be.” Connor lifted his head in shock, only to find Hank smiling at him. “I’d be proud to call you my son.”

Now Connor couldn’t keep his tears away. They were flowing down his cheeks too fast for Hank to wipe away. The man chuckled lightly. “Hell, I’d never seen you cry before. I didn’t even know it was fucking possible.”

Of course. Trust on Hank to joke on his deathbed. Yet Connor couldn’t even laugh. He grabbed Hank’s hand—the one that wasn’t on the android’s shoulder—tightly. “Dad…” The word came a bit easier to him now. What did he have to lose? ( _Everything,_ a voice whispered to him.) “If you die, I die.” And it was the damn truth. Connor didn’t think he could live without Hank. His body could _survive,_ sure, but he now knew that surviving and living weren’t the same thing.

Hank grinned. “You jump, I jump, eh?” he mumbled, earning a confused look from Connor. He pursed his lips. “Right, we haven’t watched Titanic. Put that on your to-watch list.”

More tears spilled from Connor’s cheeks. Hank couldn’t even say that they’d watch it together anymore. His vision became blurry from the excessive fluid filling his eyes.

“Come here, son,” Hank whispered a couple of seconds later, pulling Connor down to the stretcher and letting the android rest his head on his shoulder. Connor shut his eyes tightly when he felt the sobs lining his throat. He couldn’t cry—that was the last thing Hank needed right now. “You know,” Hank mumbled in his ear, a hand stroking his hair, “when Cole died, I fucking died inside, too. I gave up on living, and I didn’t think anyone could change my mind. But then… Shit, you fucking dropped into my life like a meteor and turned everything upside down, and would you look at that? I’m not drinking as much anymore, I actually care about the damn work, I’m eating something other than shitty fast food, and I’m… I’m fucking smiling. I’m laughing. I’d never thought I’d laugh again, but you made me laugh, son.” The first sob escaped Connor’s mouth. He couldn’t even look at Hank. He wasn’t strong enough.

“What I mean is, life’s gonna look fucking dark for a while, Connor. You won’t wanna live. What’s the fucking point, right? But don’t give up just then. Yes, this world is fucked up ninety percent of the time, but you never know when you might stumble upon that ten percent. And… Well, I want you to live, son. You haven’t done much of that yet. It would be pretty sad if you just gave up.”

_How?_ Connor wanted to ask, yet he felt speechless. How could he live without Hank, when the man was the one who taught him how to live in the first place? How could he live without his only family?

He couldn’t stop the sobs anymore. His throat hurt, his chest hurt, he was trembling like a leaf… He hated it, yet he couldn’t stop himself. He buried his face on Hank’s shoulder, an arm wrapping around his waist, and he cried, even though it wouldn’t change anything, even though it only hurt so much more like this. He still cried.

And Hank just let him, stroking his hand with one hand, holding Connor’s with the other, whispering soothing words that meant nothing to the android, not when he considered the situation.


	2. antidote

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello y'all!
> 
> sorry this chapter took me a bit of time to post. it was initially shorter, but i felt like it didn't explain enough so i decided to add another scene and it threw me off, and i was already having a pretty busy week so i just couldn't finish it...but anyway, it's here now! and i hope you like it :)
> 
> p.s. i am hoping to write some more DBH Hank & Connor fics, a bit fluffier this time lol (rA9 knows i need it, i'm currently the machine!Connor route and it's like breaking my heart over and over again every scene) and i already have a couple of ideas, soooo let me know if you're interested!

For a machine, Connor was definitely lighter than Hank could’ve imagined. The boy had been lying on his shoulder for… Shit, had it really been three hours? Yet Hank didn’t feel tired at all. He was still absentmindedly stroking Connor’s hair, threading his fingers through his curls—after turning deviant, Connor didn’t bother keeping his hair neat and professional all the damn time, and they’d been delighted to find out that it was actually curly—as he watched the rerun of the basketball game from yesterday. Not that he particularly cared about the result. He felt way too tired to multitask, and most of his attention was on Connor.

Crying had taken a toll on the android. Hell, it’d taken a toll on Hank as well. Connor was always so calm and collected that seeing the tears in his eyes—tears that he was unable to keep at bay—shattered the lieutenant’s heart. And his words… Fuck, they’d killed him. When he called him his _dad_ … Hank had hoped that he’d been a good father figure to Connor—he’d tried his best, damn it—yet he also wasn’t optimistic enough to think that the android _saw_ him as a father. His heart had swelled in his chest with pride…

Until the reality of the situation set in. It was fucking great that Connor saw him as his family…yet it also meant it would be just as painful to lose him. Hank knew how…how dark that pain could be. He’d lived with it for three years until Connor miraculously brought some light into his life. To think Connor, his _son,_ would be going through the same thing…

He’d tried to help him with his words as much as possible, but he also knew that nothing he could say would chase away the pain—not for a while at least.

He sighed, turning his eyes to the android’s sleeping face. After crying for about half an hour, he’d fallen too tired, and just fell asleep on Hank’s shoulder. (Well, if Connor was here, he’d spout some tech mumbo jumbo and claim he was on stand-by or what-the-fuck-ever, but really, it was _just_ a fancier name for sleeping.) His cheeks were still wet, though, and tears clung to his lashes. In moments like this, when Hank looked at Connor, he didn’t see a super-intelligent android—he just saw a little boy who’d been trying to get used to some pretty fucking overwhelming emotions. He grabbed a napkin and softly wiped Connor’s cheeks again, and then pressed a kiss on his forehead.

Just then, he heard a knock on his door. “Come in,” he said loud enough for the person to hear, but not too loud to wake Connor up. The boy deserved some rest, and Hank… Hell, this was his fucking last couple of hours. If he spent them with his boy in his arms, he’d be the happiest son of a bitch in this shithole of a world.

Jeffrey appeared behind the door, taking the scene in. His brows climbed on his forehead. Hank sighed. “He fell asleep. I didn’t wanna bother him,” he explained. Jeffrey just nodded as he entered, walking to Hank’s other side.

“You okay?” he asked the lieutenant. Hank just shrugged.

“Not the first time I’m dying, Jeffrey. I’m fine.” His eyes then fell on Connor. Well, okay, maybe he was less than fine. “Though it’s the first time in years I have someone to leave behind.” God, this was fucking hard. Hank hadn’t imagined it would be like this. Well, okay, he sorta did, but thinking and living through it were two very different things.

“Is he okay?” Jeffrey asked, gesturing at Connor. Hank bit back a laugh.

“What do you think? He’s broken.” He stopped for a second. “He called me ‘dad’, you know.” He didn’t even know why he said that. He just needed to get out before he closed his eyes to the world, he guessed. He protectively wrapped his arm around Connor before turning to Jeffrey, ignoring the man’s surprised look. “Please tell me you got something.”

“Actually, we do,” Jeffrey quickly changed the topic, tapping on something on his tablet. “We found who attacked you. Caroline Phillips.” Hank looked at the woman’s photo with a frown. Why the fuck did her name sound so familiar? “She was involved in one of the deviancy cases, before Connor became your partner.”

Oh. _Oh._ Hank remembered Connor mentioning the case to him once. It was about a little girl who’d been taken hostage by a deviant, and Connor was sent to save the girl.

Hank knew that Connor had failed. Even if he didn’t know, he would be able to guess. Now what the woman told him made sense. _He needs to feel my pain._ Caroline obviously blamed Connor for what happened to her daughter, so now she wanted him to experience a similar loss.

The lieutenant shuddered. God, this was all kinds of fucked up. He looked up at Jeffrey. “How did you figure it out?” he couldn’t help asking. Jeffrey sighed.

“One of the officers who’d been there that night. He wasn’t assigned to your case, actually, but when he heard it he wanted to help. Connor apparently saved his life. He told me that Caroline hated androids from that day forward, and… Well, she was a chemist. She could’ve easily made that poison.” Well…that made some kinda sense. Hank still frowned.

“But why wait four years? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know, Hank. She’s a grieving mother. I don’t think she was thinking clearly.” _No shit, Sherlock,_ Hank thought, but kept the comment to himself. He turned to Connor.

A heavy feeling fell on his chest. Shit. He’d never considered how the android might feel about the turn of events. If he learned that the attacker was Caroline, Hank was 110% sure Connor would blame himself. (Even though it wasn’t his fault at all, thank you very much. Caroline had decided to do that all by herself. And shit, Connor couldn’t save the fucking kid, so what? Not every mission was a success, and hostage situations were especially tricky. Yet he knew Connor wouldn’t listen to that, the stubborn asshole.)

“Jeffrey,” he asked, feeling almost breathless. “Do you have the antidote yet?” Jeffrey frowned.

“No, we’re still trying to get a confession. But we’ll have it, Hank, I promise—“

“If you can’t find it,” Hank chose his words carefully, “don’t tell Connor that it was Caroline that poisoned me, okay? I don’t… I don’t want that on his conscience.”

Jeffrey seemed like he was about to protest, but he must’ve seen the desperation in Hank’s eyes. He stopped, searching Hank’s face, and then nodded. He understood the gravity of the situation.

Hank relaxed, looking at the android—his son. At least he wouldn’t feel a crippling guilt over what happened on top of pain and grief.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Jeffrey said after a while. “Just… Hang on a little longer, Hank. We’re gonna save you.” Hank nodded absentmindedly. A couple of seconds later, the door closed, leaving him alone with the sleeping android.

A couple of years ago, Hank probably wouldn’t care that he was dying. Hell, he’d probably _welcome_ it. But now, he wanted to live. For Connor, but more importantly for himself as well. Connor had showed him what life was worth, and now he wanted to stay and experience it with his son. He might’ve lost Cole, and nobody could ever replace him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find happiness in this life.

At least… He assumed that was what Cole would want him to do.

* * *

Caroline wasn’t talking.

Jeffrey had tried everything he could think off. Hell, every single fucking officer in the precinct had tried their best, yet they weren’t getting _anything_ from the bereaved mother. They tried to be understanding, they tried to sympathize with her, they’d even threatened her about what might happen if Hank actually died—murder in the first-degree of a police lieutenant was a serious crime—yet the woman didn’t budge. Her answer was always the same: _It’s worth it._

As far as Jeffrey could tell, Caroline still hadn’t gotten over what happened to her daughter nearly four years ago. Well, _duh._ She still hated androids fiercely and claimed they were nothing more than soulless machines who couldn’t feel anything. (Though, when asked about why exactly she poisoned Hank, she’d claimed that she heard the lieutenant had a bond with Connor and she wanted to hurt the android the same way she’d been hurt. Jeffrey would’ve pointed out it was kind of hypocritical—how could Connor get _hurt_ if, according to Caroline, he didn’t have feelings?—but he assumed Caroline wasn’t really thinking right. There would be no point to it.) She wouldn’t change her mind, no matter what. And Jeffrey…was out of ideas.

Fuck. _Fuck._ He needed to get this antidote to Hank as soon as possible, and here he was, struggling to get a confession from a crying hysterical mother.

“Well, what the fuck are we going to do now?” he asked to no one in particular, keeping his eyes on Caroline through the one sided glass. She was sitting by the interrogation table, her wrists handcuffed to the table, staring at the wall blankly.

Gavin stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. “We could try roughing her up a bit.” Jeffrey glared at the detective.

“I’ll pretend like I did not hear that.” Gavin just lifted his head and stepped back. Jeffrey sighed, looking around. “Any more ideas?” Silence engulfed the room.

Great.

“We could give her the poison. She would have to give us the antidote if she wants to survive,” someone else offered. Jeffrey was beginning to lose all hope. He ran a hand over his face.

“We already tried that. She doesn’t care about herself. She thinks Connor _killed_ her daughter and couldn’t care about it one bit, so now she’s trying to hurt him. I don’t know what kind of logical leap led her that conclusion, but we have to deal with it now, and fast. Hank doesn’t have much time.” He looked at Caroline again, his shoulders slumped, wondering if he’d fail his friend—

Someone cleared her throat in the room. Jeffrey turned to the blue-haired girl—a new recruit. She was an android named Traci, whom if Jeffrey wasn’t wrong worked at the Eden Club before the android revolution. She was also a good friend of Connor’s, so even though rookies were rarely involved in cases this serious, she wanted to help.

Jeffrey arched his brow. “You can talk,” he urged the girl. Traci stepped forward, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“What if you show her Connor’s human side?” she suggested, her voice thin and almost scared. Jeffrey frowned.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t want the girl to feel uncomfortable—shit, androids were still discriminated against enough—yet Traci already seed fidgety as she looked around the room. She straightened her shoulders afterwards.

“Captain, you said that Caroline thinks Connor is just a machine. Maybe…if she sees how scared he is of losing Hank, she will empathize.” Someone—Gavin, more specifically—snorted after Traci finished her words, yet Jeffrey just glared at the detective. He gestured at Traci to continue. The girl took a deep breath and straightened up, shooting Gavin a glare of her own—which Jeffrey found thoroughly amusing—before she continued. “I was involved in one of the deviancy cases before the revolution, and Connor was going to kill me. He had his gun trained on me and my girlfriend. I thought I was going to die, so I held her hand, waiting for the bullet to pierce through me. But it never did.” Traci’s eyes turned to Caroline and she stepped forward, pressing her palm on the window. “Connor spared me. When I held my girlfriend, he saw more than just a malfunctioning machine—he saw someone capable of love. He would’ve killed me otherwise. And if he could do it despite his programming, why can’t Caroline?”

Jeffrey frowned with those words. The idea…was completely ridiculous. It was against logic, against everything he’d been told as a cop. Caroline hated Connor, and all his instincts told him that trying to change her mind wouldn’t work. It was very unlikely…yet very _human._ He’d never thought he’d say that about an android’s idea, but it was just enough human that it might actually work. His eyes traveled around the room, seeing the skeptical looks of other police officers.

He shrugged. “What do we have to lose?” Traci beamed at his words, feeling obviously smug—well, if this worked, she would have the right to be proud. Jeffrey gestured at the android. “Go ahead. Do your thing.” He knew Caroline hated androids, but humans didn’t seem to succeed in getting through to her. Maybe the only way to reach her was to bend logic, look for a detour, a path no one would think of.

No one but a young android who’d seen first-hand how empathy could change people.

Traci entered the interrogation room smoothly, her tablet in her hands. Her long hair was partly covering the LED on the side of her forehead, yet Caroline managed to identify her as an android almost immediately. She sneered, her hands curling into fists.

“What are you doing here, you fucking machine?” she hissed, not even trying to hide her hate. Traci didn’t even seem fazed as she sat across from the woman.

“I work here. My name is Traci.” Caroline didn’t even seem to care. (Jeffrey briefly thought this might not work at all with that.) “I am very sorry for your loss, Caroline.”

“Don’t pretend to care, you bitch. I don’t care what everyone else says—androids are nothing but machines.”

“That’s a shame. My girlfriend would be heartbroken if that was true.” Caroline stopped for a second, shock splashing over her face. She quickly schooled her features, though, as Traci pushed the tablet in front of the woman. “See, that’s us there, right after the android revolution. And this one is a couple of weeks later, when we got our own place, for the first time. That had been a happy day. Oh, and this is our little cat right there. He’s a…handful, but we love him nonetheless. He’s family now. You know, if I was just a machine unable to love or care about anything, the last few years would be such a waste of my time.”

Jeffrey arched his brow at Traci. Where the fuck was the girl going with all this?

It seemed Caroline had the same thought. “I don’t understand. Why are you showing me this?”

“I just wanted you to see that we’re just like you are. My girlfriend and I might not have been born human, but the love we have for each other is real. I would give my life for her. And…it’s the same for Connor, Caroline.” Caroline’s expression turned dark the moment she heard the name. Yet she opted to stay quiet. “You might think that he didn’t care about what happened to your daughter, but I know he must’ve been heartbroken.”

“How do you know _that?”_

“Because I’ve seen him care.” Traci pressed her hand over the tablet, taking not just Caroline, but everyone by surprise. “This video is from yesterday. I think you should watch it.”

Jeffrey’s eyes widened. Did Traci really… Did she actually _hack_ hospital security cameras to get that footage? Hell, she’d been planning this, hadn’t she?

“That’s not even fucking legal,” he heard Gavin say from somewhere behind him. Jeffrey shook his head.

“If it saves Hank, I’m willing to let it slide.” He watched Caroline, trying to gauge what the woman was thinking as she watched the video, trying to decide whether it would work or not. Halfway through it—Connor _had_ called Hank dad, Jeffrey also learned in the process, not that he thought Hank was lying about it—Caroline was shaking, and when Traci finally stopped the video she was outright crying. She didn’t even pull back when the android reached for her hand.

“I know you’re still grieving your daughter’s death, Caroline,” she said quietly, her voice understanding. “I can’t even imagine how much that must be hurting. But if you let Lieutenant Anderson die, you’d be putting Connor through the same pain you’re feeling now. You’d be taking his father away from him. He’s not just a machine, and I think you know it, too. And I don’t think you’d wish to hurt anyone.” Traci stopped after that, waiting, allowing Caroline to think for herself instead of pushing anything onto the woman. Jeffrey didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until Caroline lifted her head. She shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, her voice trembling. “I didn’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I was just… I just wanted the pain to end.” She shut her eyes and pressed her lips together. “The antidote… It’s in my house. And—and it works, I’ve tried. I promise. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Jeffrey didn’t even wait for Caroline to finish her words before ordering his people to get the woman and bring her to her house. Yet he _did_ stop Traci as she left the room and offered the girl a smile.

“Good job, girl. I think you just saved Hank’s life.” Traci beamed, a proud smile on her face—a fucking earned one, as well.

Jeffrey considered giving the girl a raise when this shitstorm was over. She deserved it.

* * *

Connor had been so close to losing hope when a bunch of doctors literally barged into Hank’s room. He’d been awake for about two hours, talking to Hank—well, he was mostly listening while Hank did the talking, as it was incredibly hard to talk over the huge knot in his throat—and then, in a split second, he was being pulled out of his chair by Captain Fowler of all people. Fowler was talking to him, he could see, yet his hazy mind registered just three words: “antidote,” “successful,” and “heal”.

Hank’s fingers had wrapped around his wrist before he could leave, four words leaving the lieutenant’s mouth. “I love you, son.” And then he was whisked out of the room for surgery, leaving a shocked and trembling Connor behind.

He didn’t even have time to return the sentiment. He couldn’t tell the lieutenant he loved him back, couldn’t call him “dad” one more time. And now he was sitting in the hall, waiting for Hank to come out of surgery, hopefully alive. There was… There was too much left unsaid. Too much they didn’t get to do. It was too early for Hank to die.

He took his head into his hands to suppress a headache, even though he knew it was just his thought processor overworking and the only way to reduce the discomfort was to stop thinking too much. It…wasn’t too easy.

He didn’t even know when his processor exactly overheat, causing him to go into stand-by. He only woke up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. His processors turned on one by one, registering first the voices around him, the hard chair underneath him, and finally, when he blinked his eyes open, his surroundings. He focused his vision to see what the disturbance was.

He froze when he saw the man kneeling in front of him. “Hank?” The word came out shaky and thin, earning a small smile from Hank.

“You’re gonna need a lot more than some fucking poison to kill me, Connor,” he joked with a shrug. Connor’s eyes filled with tears all over again—now he knew why humans said that sometimes it was nearly impossible to stop crying. He grasped Hank’s shoulder just to be sure that the man was actually there and it wasn’t his visual processors tricking him. (Another very human gesture, as Connor was 100% sure he was in perfect working condition—thus of course he wasn’t “hallucinating”. Yet the deviant in him, despite all logic, was _scared_ and needed to be sure.)

“You’re…healed?” Connor asked, his eyes finding Hank’s. The lieutenant chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m not leaving you—Whoa.” Hank was almost knocked back onto the floor when Connor _launched_ himself on the man, wrapping his arms around the lieutenant and burying his face to his shoulder. Hank laughed. “Slow down, son. I said I’m _healed,_ not fucking rejuvenated. I’m still not that young.”

Connor’s apology sounded muffled, because of both his tears and the fact that he couldn’t lift his head off of Hank’s shirt. Hank just smiled and rubbed Connor’s back, trying to soothe the android’s sobs. (He knew Connor was trying his hardest not to cry, but the way he trembled and the wetness Hank felt on his shoulder was a dead giveaway, really.) “Wow, crying two days in a row,” he mumbled, ruffling Connor’s hair. “Should I be worried about you, son?”

Hank felt proud when that earned at least a small chuckle from Connor. The android lifted his head, quickly wiping away his tears as he glanced at Hank through his lashes. Hank was sure he would be blushing if that was possible for an android. “I’m just… I’m just happy you’re alive,” Connor said, his voice choked with tears. He sniffled. “And I hate crying.”

A laugh bubbled out of Hank’s chest. “Well, welcome to the world of humans, Connor.” He stood up, pulling the android with himself. He kept a hand on Connor’s shoulder—and Connor was grateful for it too, as he didn’t want to be away from Hank for even one moment. He wanted to make sure the lieutenant was safe and alive. “Now how about we go home? The doctors just gave me the all-clear, and I miss my bed. These damn hospital stretchers are _not_ good for my back.” He threw his arm over Connor’s shoulders, pulling him close…just like a father might do with his son. The android felt emotional all over again, but this time it wasn’t painful. It was…good. Happy. _Home._

He looked at the lieutenant, scared at first, but then he gathered his courage. “Dad…?” he said quietly, testing Hank’s reaction. The man’s face literally lit up as he looked at Connor. That was all the confirmation Connor needed. “I love you, too.”

A grin pulled Hank’s lips. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. The way he tousled Connor’s hair and pressed a kiss on his temple was all that needed to be done.

(Though Hank _did_ warn him afterwards that if Connor ever told him he loved him in front of the precinct, and _God forbid_ Gavin…he’d have his ass handed to him. Still, there was a smile on Hank’s face as he said that, so Connor assumed he wasn’t serious… Well, at least he hoped.)


End file.
